


Story of a lifetime - outtakes

by taralynden



Series: Story of a lifetime [5]
Category: Transformers Generation One
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-07-20
Updated: 2012-07-20
Packaged: 2017-11-10 09:20:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 2,238
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/464693
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/taralynden/pseuds/taralynden
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A handful of scenes that <em>did not</em> happen in SoaL, but could have.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> These scenes were released to thank my readers, a few scenes that got written and then discarded during the process of writing SoaL. Just don't get confused and think they're part of the main plot :)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alternate scene in Part 2: Jazz gathering info on Deltaray, pretending to be nothing more than a storesmech concerned about his roommate.

Jazz slid onto the bench and handed one of the cubes he had been juggling to each of the three mechs already seated there.

"So?" he asked anxiously. "What'd ya get?"

Two of them looked at the third for approval, then back at him.

"Delta was definitely the one to feed the rumour mill." the orange mech spoke first. "Went bragging to his own team who then spread the word."

"General consensus is he's a smooth talker who gets what he's after, one way or another." the silver one added. "Nothing improper, no history of tangles, just tends to look for the hard to get type and doesn't give up easy."

"Kinda like someone else we know." the orange one smirked.

Jazz returned the expression briefly then focused on the silver one.

"So what now? Is he a do it an' drop'em type, or will he play it out?"

Silver shrugged.

"He varies. No real long term commitment, though. And this one? Word is, it was a bet."

Jazz nodded and fell silent until they had both finished their drinks and moved away, leaving him with only one companion.

"What I don't understand is why you're so concerned about this." the remaining mech mused. "You've had plenty of opportunity to seduce him if you wanted to, regardless of Curveball's teasing. I understood you had decided not to."

"I did." Jazz nodded firmly, careful to show no ambivalence whatsoever. "But I have to share a room with the mech, and he ain't takin' the close scrutiny all that well. He's somewhat short on experience, an' I'm pretty sure this meant a fair bit more to him than to Delta."

"Ah. He doesn't realise Delta may not be so committed?"

"I hope he does." Jazz sighed, then finished the last of the oil in his cube. "Well, thanks for finding the informants, Raj. I 'preciate it."

Mirage sighed.

"Have you ever considered it might be easier for you if you varied your role when you were on ship?"

"Hey, I'm just Jazz, no-one special." he grinned back. "I leave all that role-playin' stuff to you experts."

Mirage shook his head in mild exasperation and held out his cube.

"In that case, since you're so clearly in my debt, another of the same would be very nice."


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alternate start to Part 5: Jazz returning to the Ark surprising Prowl; before Jazz & Sides first meet. Prowl's been on a front line mission planned by Quickquadrant and is now on medical stand-down.

Prowl onlined to a familiar touch and stared in surprise.

"You're back so soon?"

"It's the way it works, sometimes. Miss me?"

Prowl shifted to the side so there was room for Jazz to lie beside him more comfortably.

"I always miss you."

Jazz hummed at that and ran a finger delicately down a fresh weld in Prowl's arm, making him shiver.

"Don't. The solder's still soft."

"Mm." Jazz murmured, then rested his head against Prowl's shoulder. "I don't like hearin' you've been on the front line, babe. Worries me."

"We're at war."

"Yeah, but you're a tactician, not a fighter. An' you're too young t'be havin' t'fight for y'life."

"It's the reality we're living in. You do it all the time."

"In m'own way."

"Meaning without backup." Prowl pointed out, then shook his head. "That's just a scratch, Jazz. I was fine. And Prime actually approved one of my plans."

Jazz gave him a strange smile and opened his mouth to speak, then hesitated as the comm chimed.

"You need t'get that?"

"No, it'll just be Sideswipe."

"Sideswipe?" Jazz frowned. "He's one o'those new warriors we picked up from the _Fantalex_ , right?"

"How do you know things like that? You've barely even been here since they arrived."

"It's my job t'know."

"You answer that way remarkably often. Is there anything that _isn't_ in your job description?"

Jazz slid one hand down his chassis, smirking.

"Jackin' you ain't, but I figure I'm allowed a bit o'leeway when I'm off-duty."


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Omitted scene from Part 7, Prowl's precautions around his office when he's being attacked and poisoned on a dismayingly regular basis. Note in particular the guard on duty.

Prowl unlocked the door to the Tactical Office and closed it behind himself, looking for any changes.

Everything seemed just as it had been since he had locked it, and he relaxed a little. The guards outside had claimed no-one had been near, and the alarms that should have pinged him with alerts of any intrusions had remained silent, but it was also reassuring to have his own system of surety.

He smiled wryly to himself as he stooped to pick up the stylus that had clattered to the floor as he entered. It had been very carefully balanced to drop the moment the doors were opened. An intruder would certainly have noticed it, and may even have gone to the trouble of replacing it to trigger again, but they would likely not have realised that the clatter also covered the very quiet click of a simple mechanical counter that measured the number of times the door had been opened. Each time he left he checked the figure.

Today the count was correct. The room had remained undisturbed in his absence.

His assistants and aides all thought he was unbearably pedantic, insisting on being the first to enter and the last to leave. In fact, they believed him superstitious. He did not care. Thus far a little extra caution had been more than warranted.

Putting the stylus down on his desk for now, he re-opened the doors and waved in his two aides who were waiting boredly outside with Acetone, the head of the security squad who kept a permanent guard on the room.

One of the first security measures he had taken on being promoted was to rearrange the office and have the doors open for the majority of the time. The only time they were closed was for when he and his assistants were discussing sensitive tactical data, something that was not currently an issue since he had no-one left to hold those discussions with.

The terminals and planning tables had all been carefully positioned so that it was impossible for anyone passing by to see anything they should not, and even entering the office as far as Prowl's desk or delivery basket was not enough. In addition, his desk was directly in line with the door, with full view of anyone loitering.

No-one would sneak up on him, no-one could accidentally see what they should not, and there were alway at least two guards within easy reach in case things went wrong.

Safe.

Time to get to work.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Omitted scene from Part 7, Sideswipe trying to help Prowl learn to protect himself.

"No, no, not like that. Like this."

Prowl watched as Sideswipe demonstrated again, shaking his head faintly.

"I can't do that."

"You're just not trying, that's all."

"If I get it wrong, I'll land flat on my back. Need I be explicit about why that would be a bad result with my frame type?"

"But if you practice it, you'll get it right."

"By way of harming myself in the interim, which may result in the requirement for medical attention."

"So? Everyone hurts themselves a bit when they're learning."

Prowl shuddered at the thought. He still recalled quite clearly the agony of the last time he had hurt his doorwings, and that had been by carelessly catching it on a protruding beam while inspecting a destroyed base. He had no intention of inflicting such injuries on himself intentionally.

"I fail to see the purpose of it." he declared, turning away.

Sideswipe chased after him.

"I'm trying to keep you alive! You've got to take this more seriously."

"By which you mean specifically that I need to acquire more hand-to-hand combat skills."

"Yeah."

Prowl shook his head.

"Sideswipe, I appreciate your concern and your attempt to assist, but I do not have time to spend on this. I have far too much to do."

"You can't afford _not_ to make time." Sideswipe countered. "What if you're attacked and there's no-one around to help you? It could happen."

Sadly, that was true. There had been several near misses already.

"I suppose I could make some time for this. Perhaps if we give up our scheduled games?"

Sideswipe grinned broadly.

"Now _there's_ an idea. I could do with beating _you_ for a change."

"We shall see." Prowl said, turning away. "But for now I have work to do."


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alternate scenes from Part 2: Deltaray saying goodbye and the fallout that follows prior to the epilogue where Prowl learns he has died.

Prowl frowned, not sure he understood.

"When?"

"In a couple of groons. Virex and Prime finished their talks last shift and he's charging now, so when he gets up we'll be off."

"I see. Well it's been a pleasure working with you."

"More than just working, I hope." Deltaray retorted with a smile.

"I... well... of course, but that's..." he stammered, shocked that the lieutenant would raise the matter so casually in an open corridor with mechs passing by.

"And I was thinking." Deltaray continued, reaching out to stroke the nearest edge of Prowl's doorwing. "Maybe we've got time for one more fling before I head off?"

"I'm not sure." Prowl tried to think through the welcome/unwelcome sensations. "My shift doesn't end for another four groons..."

"Why wait til then?"

He snapped his doorwing back behind himself and focused.

"Just what are you suggesting?"

"Well you're just the punishments officer." Deltaray shrugged, stepping deliberately closer to pin him up against the wall and playing his hands over Prowl's abdomen. "No-one's gonna care if you slip off for a groon or so."

"You can't be serious."

"Sure I am. Oh, hey, I've got an idea. Why don't we use your office? That way you'll be _at_ work, right?"

* * *

Jazz stepped into the room quietly, noting the doused lights, and closed the door behind himself.

Moving surely across to his own berth, he sat down and set the cubes he was carrying down beside him. The mech on the other berth sighed heavily and turned on the lights, revealing that he was lying on his side facing the wall.

"You don't have to sit in the dark. Put some music on if you like."

"You okay?"

"Why wouldn't I be?"

Jazz waited but nothing more was forthcoming.

"Hungry? I brought you some energon an' some oil."

"You have them. I have no appetite."

"It ain't that bad, Prowler."

Doorwings trembled, rattling softly against the berth.

"I disgraced myself. I earned a lecture and a formal warning about conduct unbecoming of officers. And I delayed the departure of Ultra Virex's party."

"Huh. Well imagine how bad it coulda been if you'd got caught actually _doin'_ it." Jazz considered.

The doorwings stilled in what Jazz suspected was indignation and then Prowl lurched up and spun around to face him, confirming the reaction.

"I would never do such a thing!" he hissed furiously. "The very idea!"

"Easy, easy!" Jazz raised his hands defensively. "I'm on your side. More importantly, so's the rumour mill. Delta mighta convinced the powers that be, but no-one else aboard'd believe it for a nanoclick. An' if y'ask me, it's only Quad who's cross about the whole thing, an' that's only cause Delta'd stopped pronging _him_."

Prowl's shocked expression made him wince.

"Slag. You didn't know that? Rumour had it that that was what set this all off in the first place. Sorry, Prowler. Everyone's sure you knew."

Prowl shook his head sharply, averting his gaze.

"I should hardly be surprised." he said tightly. "Particularly given some of the things he said."

"So what _did_ set it off?"

"He wanted me to abandon my rostered duties to... to..." Prowl began, then broke off.

Jazz sighed.

"He doesn't know you very well then, does he?"

"Well, as you say." Prowl offered bitterly. "Everyone knew he was berth hopping. He was only interested in me to get under my panels."

"Prowler..."

"Don't, Jazz. These things happen, right? Most mechs've had it happen more than once. I'm just showing my inexperience by getting upset by it. Perhaps if I were more social and had access to this wealth of knowledge everyone else seems to share I would not have been caught out so badly."

"If I'd known, I woulda warned ya, I swear."

Prowl sighed, slumping.

"I can't imagine leaving these quarters ever again. What everyone must think of me now, I just don't want to know. It's immature and I just don't care. I don't want to be here."

"It ain't that bad. Really. No, you gotta believe me, it isn't. Most of'em're havin' a good laugh about it, sure, but at _him_ , not at you. Word is you actually decked him."

"A superior officer." Prowl groaned, putting his face in his hands.

"A superior jerk." Jazz corrected him. "He deserved what he got."

"A groon of reconstructive surgery in Ratchet's bay?"

"Three groons, from what I heard, but only cause the doc decided he couldn't be bothered doin' it himself and used him as a trainin' case for his interns. _He_ seems to have some strong opinions on who was in the right on this one."

"But they don't even know what it was about!"

"They know Delta tumbled ya." Jazz pointed out, deliberately choosing a slang term. "They also know you're always professional, even when you're angry - like when you had all that paint all over your doorwings that you couldn't get rid of, or when they hacked into your schedule so you were in the wrong places all day. You didn't blow your top during any of that, so the way they see it, whatever Delta did musta been big. An' he musta deserved every bit of it."

Prowl did not respond, which made Jazz smile. Clearly the tactician thought much the same, whatever the circumstances had been.


End file.
